Paper Rains
by snails-on-the-french-riviera
Summary: Draco gets partnered with that darn Potter kid for a term project. Fun times are ahead! And what does the mysterious sketchbook Draco found in the library have to do with it? Prologue now deleted, editing undergone. UPDATED, AT LONG LAST!
1. Chillin' with Draco in the Library

**A/N- yay! first Chapter is UP!!! Happy happy joyjoy! eeeeeeeep!  
okay, i'm good now. on to more important things; like chocolate! no, actually, i would just like to say that this is **_**not **_**going to be a Draco/Oc romance. fyi. i'm not saying why not, cuz that would give away my plan,s but its basically impossible. and, i'm officially establishing a timeframe here for when this is set. i didn't even think about it till after id written this, cuz im an idiot like that, but its officially set in fourth year now. anything i may say in the chapter contrary to this is **_**wrong! **_** okay, long author's note aside, please enjoy the very first official chapter of-**

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It was a wonderful, sunny September afternoon; one of those rare days where the air is crisp and cool, the sun is shining like there's no tomorrow, and all the world seems good and happy.

Anyone with half a brain was outside enjoying the last nice weather before winter really set in.

But it just goes to show that some people have less than half a brain, because guess who was inside, studying?

Aside from Hermione Granger, I mean.

No guesses?

Alright, I'll give you a hint: his name is Draco Malfoy.

I know right?

Isn't that the most wonderful hint ever?

What's that? Shut up and get back to the story? Okay! ahem...

The tall, aristocratic looking blond and his pair of cronies waltzed into the library.

They quickly staked out a secluded table by the back; after all, if you have to be in the library during your lunch period on such a gorgeous day, then at least you should be able get some work done. Also, this way no one would see them study. Because, you know, it's so undignified and all.

Ahh, the workings of the Slytherin mind; still a mystery to the rest of us.

The leader of the three tossed his books onto the table with a loud bang, earning himself a very stern look from Madam Pince. He smirked, and made a mocking bow in her direction, much to the amusement of the other two. Madam Pince scowled even more fiercely, and stalked off among the books.

"Honestly, Vince, remind me why we're here again?" drawled the blond, plopping himself down at the head of the table. The two goons slouched into the seats beside him, and started digging through their bags for parchment and quills.

"Because," one of them grunted, "you promised to help me an' Greg with our Herbology assignment. You know I can't tell an 'erb from a not-'erb to save my life!"

The blond made a mock-thoughtful face, and replied, "hmm, yes, I suppose I did, didn't I? And it's pronounced 'herb', Vince, not 'erb'. This isn't America, this is Britain."

Vincent Crabbe snorted. "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, are you going to help us or what?"

"Yes, I suppose I'll have to. You'll flunk, otherwise, and then I'd have to help you with make-up homework and we'd never get out of the library. And locking myself away in a barn full of books is _not _my idea of fun."

Crabbe and Goyle nodded heartily in agreement, and they got started.

"No, Greg, its _Hyssop _roots you put in calming draughts, not holly berries!"

"Oh, right." Goyle quickly scratched out the offending sentence and rewrote it.

"Vince, you've got this wrong. You don't find Nasturtium in Greenland! It's from Peru, for Merlin's sake, it'd freeze!"

"Right, thanks!"

"For heavens sakes, you two, how you haven't been kicked out is a mystery to me."

At last Crabbe and Goyle were both on the right track, needing only an occasional nudge from Draco to keep them going.

Draco relaxed, letting his eyes wander. He'd finished his own essay ages ago, before Vincent and Greg had even started, but he _had _promised to help them.

And Malfoys don't go back on promises.

Well…. Not often, anyways. Not to friends. Well, not good friends- And it's not like he had much else to do anyways.

Draco's eyes fell on a slightly darker rectangle hiding beneath one of the shelves.

A book, he realized.

_Somebody must have dropped it._

_Twitch. Twitch. Book- floor- not good…_

He stared at it on and off for several minutes before his OCD got the better of him.

_Must- clean!- book on floor- evil! Noooo!_

He wandered casually over to it ( Yeah right Draco, more like tried to run and twitch insanely at the same time. That's right, you can't lie to us! We own you! Sort of…) and knelt down, his fingers sliding under the shelf to pick it up.

He flipped it over, taking in the dusty brown leather of its cover and the golden lock on the pages.

_Aha! Someone's secret diary! It looks like it's been down there a while._

He tried to pry it open, but to no avail. It _was _locked, after all.

"Oh yeaah, kinda forgot about that…."

"Draco? Why are you talking to yourself?"

"Oh, no reason, Greg. You just keep working away, kay?"

"Okay Draco."

Greg went back to his essay, while OCD boy over here started trying to pick the lock, with minimal success.

"Ow! Stupid diary stung me! Damn girls, stop being so paranoid! I mean really, who's gonna read your diary anyways? No one cares what you write!"

This from the fourteen-year-old currently pulling with all his might at the covers of said diary.

_Crash! Bang! SLAMMO!_

"F**k!"

"MR MALFOY! I _insist _you leave _at once_!"

"aah hell…."

"MR MALFOY! OUT!"

Draco fled the library, calling a hasty apology to Crabbe and Goyle over his shoulder.

_Stupid librarian kicking me out…it wasn't my fault! The diary attacked me!_

Speaking of the diary…

Draco hadn't even realized he was still clutching it when he'd ran out. The indignant shrieks of Madam Pince had drowned out all rational thought.

_Damn, that woman's scary!_

_But hey! At least its open now! Although I think I'm bleeding…_

It was true. As Draco had yanked at the covers of the book, the lock had suddenly given way. Unprepared for the sudden release, he'd continued to pull and ended up slamming his hand into the bookshelf at high speed. Causing it to fall on him. Causing Madam Pince to ban him henceforth and forever more from the library.

_And good riddance!_

So, now that we're all caught up on Draco's state of health, lets have a look in that diary, shall we?

Draco gingerly flipped it open with his non-bleeding hand, half expecting it to bite him again. However, the little book put up no resistance, and Draco found himself looking at something rather surprising.

Eyes.

Not real ones, drawings.

Hundreds of them, gazing out unblinkingly from their paper prison.

Each and every one of them was different; unique. It was as if a crowd of people had been there, and then faded away, leaving behind only their eyes, captured in lines of ink.

They made him uneasy.

If he stared at them long enough, he thought he could see a few of them winking at him.

Draco narrowed his own grey eyes suddenly. There was something else here-

He peered closer at the lower right-hand corner of the page. The artist had written something there in curving lines of script, but the writing was so tiny he had a hard time making it out.

At last, he succeeded. It appeared to be a poem of some sort, if only a fragment of one.

_Reality._

_A harsh, unkind place,_

_Filled with uncaring people_

_I am anonymous, face in the crowd._

_I dare not reach out to you, lest I am broken_

_A silent observer is all I will be._

_I am invisible._

_Fantasy._

_Kinder and gentler_

_An often-used safe house_

_Here I will harbor out all of life's storms._

_No sorrow, no pain, just the-_

It cut off suddenly, clearly unfinished. A rivulet of black ran from the last loop of the 'e' to the edge of the paper, and the page itself was wrinkled and creased in several places.

Of course, it could have been from being left on the floor for a few days, but it looked to Draco as if it had been hastily slammed shut and away before the ink had been given time to dry.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

So, someone at Hogwarts was a closet poet and an artist. A damn good one too, judging from the drawings in the notebook. He riffled quickly through the pages, stopping whenever something caught his eye.

A cat, sitting on a wall. A boy sitting huddled against a wall, crying. Another, different boy licking an ice-cream cone as he walked down a busy street.

_Interesting. It looks so real..._

It was probably one of the muggle-borns, he decided.

Not many_ proper_ wizards were too keen on poetry.

_I wonder who it is?_

He tucked the thought away in a corner of his mind for later, but right now he had to go.

"S**T!!! Divination started five minutes ago! I'm gonna get eaten!"

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** HI!!! did you like it!? i certainly had fun writing it! draco may be a tad OOC, but first of all, he's 14! he's supposed to be immature! and secondly, we only really see his nasty side in the books, when he's around Harry. for all we know he could be less evil when he's alone or with friends. so dont freak out. he's not gonna start being nice to Harry or anythig freaky like that. not yet, anyways.**

**OH! thank-you to the reviewer who told me that it actually is pronounced 'herb' in britain. i always thought it was with a silent 'h' there too, but apparently not. i felt so silly. and then i started imagining your review in an english accent, adn i started laughing. in the middle of a Bio Exam... hehe. **

**this is snails-on-the-french-riviera. over and out!! lalalalalalalalla! **


	2. Partnered with Potter!

**look everyone, a new chapter! let's read it! also, i changed some things after posting this for the first time, so if its confusing, im very sorry. i'll put notice in the next Chappie too! NOW, on with the Chapter!**

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**Ch 2- Partnered with Potter.**

or:

**While Jumping To Conclusions May Be Fun, It Will Get your God-Son Grounded**

**o-o-o**

Draco skidded into Divination fifteen minutes late, red faced and out of breath. He had sprinted all the way to the tower from the library, four floors below and on the other side of the castle.

"Proffesor- pant pant- sorry- pant-late- lost track of time- pant pant…"

He doubled over, wheezing.

_Alright, that's it! Time to shape up, mister!_

Trelawny made no sign that she had heard his apology, or even his entrance. She continued speaking over his words. "...be studying topics befitting of your fourth year status..."

_Riiight. I'll just sit down then, shall I? Crazy old bat..._

He glanced briefly around the classroom, saw who else was in the class, and nearly had a hissy fit right there and then.

_You have got to be kidding me. We're stuck having class with the bloody Gryffindorks!? _

Draco would normally have made some sort of complaint, but he deemed it unwise, under the circumstances.

The circumstances being that he still couldn't really breath.

_Dammit, this sucks! Stupid Dumbles, I'll bet my wand that this was his stupid idea. stupid inter-house co-operation plot. _

_Stupid...Bloody...goddamn..._

He made his stumbling, grumbling way over to an empty armchair next to Crabbe and Goyle, who, despite having left the library a good five minutes after him, had somehow managed to arrive on time.

_Note to self: Make Vince and Greg tell me how they did that. Even if it means torturing them._

Draco started pulling out his wand and books and whatnot. He tossed his text-book carelessly onto the coffee table and slouched down in his seat, absently fingering his wand.

Trelawny was still speaking, saying something about a term project; absently, Draco noted that he should probably be paying attention to the loopy lady, but he had other things on his mind.

Like that notebook.

_I wonder whose it is? From the amount of dust on it, it'd been there at least a few months, probably longer. But there's no name in it- at least, I don't think so._

He glanced at his bag, itching to pull it out and check.

_Come on, Draco, forget it. Don't turn this into another of your obsessions. Remember how that other one turned out?_

()

_micro- flashback_

"_Dobby, what's a Croosh-yo?"_

_end micro- flashback_

()

Of course, he had been very young then. He was smarter now.

()

_Micro-flashback II_

"_Dobby, what's a Croosh-yo?"_

_Dobby the House Elf blinked his enourmous green eyes at his five year old master. "Dobby is sorry, what did the young master say?"_

"_A Croosh-yo. Like, croo, an' she, an' O, all smushed together," little Draco repeated patiently._

_End micro- flashback II_

()

_Oh, come on! It wasn't the same situation at all. this was a book, for Merlin's sake, not a curse. Of course, he hadn't know it was a curse at the time..._

He'd heard his father say the word once, but he'd been eavesdropping at the time, and obviously couldn't stop his father to ask for a vocabulary lesson. He'd tried to find out later, of course, but no one he'd asked had given him a straight answer. He'd asked all his peers (who knew nothing), and half the house-elves at Malfoy Manor,(who went into hysterics), before he finally struck gold. Not the gold he was looking for, but gold all the same. His godfather's reaction was priceless, in hindsight.

()

()

_FlashBack._____________________________-_-_-_-_-_-__________________________

"_Hey uncle Sevvie! I got's a question!"_

_Severus Snape had winced a little at the nickname and bad grammar, but had answered willingly enough._

"_What is it Draco?"_

"_What's a Croosh-yo?"_

_Uncle Sev patted him absently on the head, his mind on the potion he hoped to brew quite soon. "It's Crucio, dear one, from the Latin Crucio, Cruciare. From the present passive participle and fourth principle part, Cruciatus, we get the name 'Cruciatus Curse' Technically, it should be pronounced __Kroo__-kee-oh, with a hard 'c', but-" _

_He cut off abruptly, and stared at Draco._

"_Where did you hear that, small one? Your parents shouldn't be telling you about things like that for at least a few years. What was Lucius thinking?"_

"_Oh, Daddy didn't tell me about Croosh-yo's-"_

"_Then your mother did? Honestly, I thought Narcissa had more sense than that! Knowledge and protection are all very well, but there's plenty of time for illegal curses later on."_

_Draco went all starry-eyed. "Illegal Curses! Wow!"_

_Sevvie looked at him sternly. "No, not wow. Very bad actually."_

_Draco was crushed. "Bad? Why is it bad, Uncle Sevvie? If Papa's done it-"_

_Severus chocked. "Lucius performed the Cruciatus Curse in front of you?"_

_Draco scuffed a foot on the ground and stared at his shoes in fascination. "Well… not exactly…"_

_Severus' face cycled through a number of emotions as he thought that statement through and came to what seemed, at the time, to be the logical conclusion. Confusion was there, if only briefly, and shocked disbelief, and finally raging, murderous anger. _

_if there was one thing Severus Snape could not stand, it was someone hurting a child._

"_Right. That's all I need to hear. Come with me, darling, I'm going to take you to see Madam Pomfrey here at Hogwarts, and then your parents and I are going to have a very serious talk."_

_From the look on his face, 'talk' meant 'painfully and gruesomely massacre, and then pickle the leftovers into potions ingredients._

_Needless to say, poor Draco was terrified._

_Oh no, I didn't think he'd be this angry at me for eavesdropping on Papa!_

"_I'm sorry, Uncle Sev, I didn't mean to make you angry! Please don't be mad!" Draco cried tearfully, only half faking it. An angry Severus Snape was enough to make anyone cry. _

_His god-father looked scandalized, and deeply sad. "Oh no, no Draco, I'm not angry at you! Don't fret, little one. It's your parents who should be worried."_

_Draco was confused. Why were his Mama and Papa in trouble for something he did? It made no sense to him. But because even at five years old Draco was a Slytherin through and through, he decided, __what the hey. I'll let my parents take the rap, and I'll just sit back and watch the fireworks. Could be fun!_

_Sevvie had dropped him off with Madam Pomfrey, and after holding a whispered conversation with her in the corner, had stalked out of the Hospital wing, presumably to go and have that 'talk' he'd told Draco about. _

_End FlashBack______________________

_()_

Draco, of course, didn't get to witness the blow-up now infamous in the Malfoy household, but he'd heard the story enough times to imagine it.

()

_FlashBackII___________________________________

"_LUCIUS MALFOY!! YOU WILL DRAG YOUR FILTHY-ROTTEN, CHILD ABUSING CARCASS OVER HERE __RIGHT NOW__, YOU NO-GOOD PEICE OF FILTH!!"_

_Lucius came running in, looking panicked. "Severus! What's wrong!? Is Draco alright?!"_

"_Oh, so __now__ you care about your son's well being? I think it's a little late, don't you?" Severus snapped acidly, glaring at the man he had once called friend. _

_Lucius gave him a blank stare. "I'm sorry? What are we talking about?"_

"_YOU! You torture your son with an illegal curse and you have the gall to pretend you know nothing!! You utter bastard!"_

_Narcissa came running in at that moment. "Lucius? Is everything all right? I heard raised voices and I thought- oh, hello Severus! What brings you here?"_

_Severus turned his death glare on her. "Oh, let me think. Maybe your husband's use of the Cruciatus Curse on your son has something to do with it!"_

_Narcissa went white as a sheet. "What?" she asked faintly, "Lucius…" Her eyes narrowed, her normally pleasant face morphing into a mask of rage. "Is this true, __Malfoy?__" she said, her voice low and dangerous._

_Lucius was stricken, utterly appalled . "I never! I love him, I love both of you! How could you even think that!"_

_His wife drew herself up to her full height, and screamed, "HOW COULD I?! How could YOU! You- have you no soul!? He's five, Lucius, FIVE! He's not one of your Death Eater pals, so used to the Cruciatis Curse they hardly even feel it any more! how dare you! If you ever threaten my son ever again, I won't just leave you, I'll- I'll kill you!"_

_Lucius gaped at his enraged wife. _

_I am so confused,__ he thought. _

"_Narcissa! Darling. I swear to you, on my soul, on my life and on my magic, that I have never, I repeat, NEVER, threatened our son. And I never will. You know that!"_

_Narcissa looked at her husband in shock. That was a serious oath he'd just taken. No wizard in the world would dare break an oath sworn on their life and magic. No one knew what would happen if they did; it simply wasn't done. It wasn't __possible__ for a wizard to break such an oath, as far as Narcissa knew. _

_But then- why would Severus lie? _

_She looked to him, to see him looking just as floored as she felt._

_Severus gaped at Lucius. If his friend was telling the truth, which he clearly was, then that meant Draco had lied to him._

"_If you're telling the truth, then why did Draco just tell me otherwise?"_

_The other's eyes widened. "Draco told you I threatened him?"_

_Later, at Hogwarts:_

_Lucius knelt before his son, and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Little Dragon? Why did you tell Uncle Sevvie that I-" he couldn't finish the question. "You know I'd never hurt you, don't you?" he choked._

_Little Draco looked up at his father innocently. " Of course I know that, Papa. What's that got to do with it? why is everyone so upset, all I did was eavesdrop a little. What's the big deal?"_

_Every single adult in the room face-palmed, and he was pretty sure Lucius had passed out. He later denied everything, of course._

_Draco had been grounded for a month after that, and his Mama and Papa had been a bit stiff towards Severus for longer. But eventually he was forgiven for jumping to what was an understandable conclusion, under the circumstances. _

_Draco never did figured out what a Croosh-yo was, though._

_End FlashBackII_____________________________________________

_()_

_()_

" Potter, Malfoy."

At the sound of his name, Draco snapped back to the present.

"What?"

He wasn't the only one taken off guard by her pronouncement. Draco's voice was echoed by Potter, although he sounded more appalled than confused.

_I wonder why Potter is unhappy? i guess he just fears and hates the sound of my name that much. D_raco smirked triumphantly. A_s he should._

Trelawney looked startled by his question. "What's that, my dear?"

"You said my name."

she blinked her huge, misty eyes at him. "Did I? Yes, I suppose I did. Well? What are you waiting for? Go sit next to Harry, dear."

"What! Why?" His smirk dropped off his face instantly. S_it next to Potter? What the bloody hell for!_

"Why?" Yet another confused blink. "Because the omens have revealed to me that you two will be partners for our upcoming project, of course! Why ever else?"

"Why ever- Professor, please-"

"No, Mr Malfoy." For once, the professor actually looked firm. "I have Foreseen your partnership. One cannot argue with the spirits, it is unwise. Now, move! Go on, shoo!"

Draco fumed, but made no reply. It wasn't worth losing House points over.

He angrily snatched up his books and stalked over to Potter's table as Trelawny continued reading off names.

Slumping sulkily into the seat nearest his new partner, he muttered, "Stupid bitch, making me work with damn Potter. If my father knew about this…"

Potter directed a death glare at him and sneered, "Running to Daddy _again,_ Malfoy? Can't deal with little old me?"

_Well what do you know? The ickle Gryffindor is growling. How cute. Amature._

Draco's irritation faded slightly as the thrill of a confrontation took over. Verbal sparring, even with such an incompetent opponent as Potter, was one of the joys of his existence. The rush of emotions and adrenaline he got from exchanging insults with a true master was like a drug to him. He couldn't get enough of it. Severus Snape was the same way, one of the reasons the two got along so well. They could dance around each other's words for hours on end, using every weapon in their verbal arsenal to cripple the other. So far, Severus had always defeated him soundly. The man simply had no end to the biting insults he issued, and wasn't afraid to fight dirty. Watching that man at work, crushing student's hopes and belittling their dreams- it was simply magical.

Draco smirked nastily at the small, dark-haired boy foolish enough to challenge him. Unwilling to hold back, even for the sake of finesse, he pulled out the 'big guns' straight away.

"Bit cranky, aren't you? You look awful...even more than usual. What's wrong, didn't sleep well? Missing your parents already, are you? Oh wait. I forgot. You don't have parents, do you?"

Potter looked lost, but Granger leaned over and hissed, "Bit hypocritical, aren't you, Malfoy? Don't you write to your father, what, four times a day, five, to complain about how unhappy you are? How does he feel to know he's raised a whiny little brat of a son, I wonder. He's probably regretting not drowning you as an infant right about now."

Draco saw Potter sending his friend a relieved glance, and receiving a tight smile in return, but he ignored it, and the jibe about his father, in favor of getting the MudBlood out of his face.

"Granger, what are you, his attack dog? Kindly remove both yourself and your uncommonly large teeth from my personal space, I'm afraid your filthiness might be catching."

The MudBlood looked like she was physically restraining herself from strangling him, but sat back in her own seat.

_Thank Goodness._

"Very well, my dears. you may now speak among yourselves and determine our choice of topic. anything is fine, so long as it is within the field of Divination." Apparently, Trelawny had finished her start of term speech.

_Oh well, I guess play time's over._

Draco turned to his so-called-partner, and sneered at him.

"Alright, Potty, here's the deal. As much as I hate you, I have no intention of failing this class; we will work together on this as necessary, and that is is all. I'd cut you out of the picture entirely, but I suspect Trelawny would have several objections to that idea. So in the meantime, _do_ try to restrain your natural idiocy, okay?"

The boy-who-lived glared daggers at Draco. "Shut it, Malfoy. I doubt you even know what the assignment is!"

Draco considered, digging back through his fuzzy memories of what the Professor had been saying.

_Let's see… I was thinking about Father, and the Croosh-yo incident [still don't know what that is, now that I think about it], and in the background, she was saying-_

"Something about magical theory. How it works, stuff like that."

Potter scowled, thwarted. "We have to pick a specific area of Divination and explain how and why it works. In detail, by the end of the year. No class time, no asking teachers, and no parroting others idea's out of books. we have to come up with our own explanation, supported by experiments."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How the hell does she expect us to do that? Use our psychic powers, maybe? Or perhaps the magical brain faeries will come down from the heavens and drop the knowledge into out heads!"

Potter gave him a dirty look. "Shut up, Malfoy. She said we're supposed to reason it out for ourselves. Something about 'the omens portending that the Theory of Magical Divination would become necessary to our well being in the near future.'"

"Right, because that's going to be so _helpful_, and all," he drawled sarcastically. "We are wizards, Potter, therefore we can do magic. Divination is magic, therefore it works. End of story. "

Trelawney appeared behind him, smiling brightly. "The signs tell me that you two have chosen your topic already. Well? What is it?"

"True Seers and the precise mechanism for the Inner Eye." Draco said the first thing that came to mind.

Trlawney looked shocked. "Oh. Oh my. Are you sure you don't want something else? Tea-leaves, perhaps?"

Potter looked ready to agree, but Draco quickly shook his head.

I_f it makes Potty miserable, we're definitely doing it!_

"No no, Professor; we're sure."

She looked very unhappy with his choice, but had no option but to accept it. "Very well, Mr Malfoy, but let me warn you: you may find it a more challenging topic than you first thought."

She glided away, or at least, attempted to, but her foot got caught on her robes, and she stumbled awkwardly.

"Ha!" Draco snorted, earning himself a glare from Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, both of whom had some weird hero worship thing going on with Trelawny.

_Pfft! Priceless. She didn't seem to happy with my topic, though. probably thought we were going to expose her for the fraud she is. Ha!_

"So," Potter said, "any particular reason why you just chose a topic the teacher dislikes? Or just, you know, being your normal slimy self?"

Draco gave him his best smirk. "Slimy self. Naturally."

_Not to mention that if we're going to be experimenting with magic, I want the __least__ dangerous area possible. Divination seems pretty safe, but you can never tell with Potty around. we could die of tea overdose or something._

He received only an evil glare in return for his efforts in keeping them both alive.

_Ungrateful brat._

Potter seemed to be trying to restrain himself. "Whatever. It's too early in the year to be fighting with you. So, do you know anything about Seers?"

"Nope! You?"

Potter slammed his head on the desk. "Damn you, Malfoy," he muttered. "Third day of classes, and _already_ I'm stuck with _you. _This is gonna be a _long _year…"

Draco smirked.

_How delightful! I may have to work with bloody Potter, but at least I get to rile him up. And he can't even hex me._

It was going to be a fun year.

* * *

**Yep, lil ol' Draco's a very evil boy! but we still love him! **

**I hope you liked Chappie numero dos! i feel like not much happened, but I was trying to show Draco's personality some, and also his relationships with other characters. i think it came out okay, i actually quite like it, but i'd appreciate your feed back SO-SO-SO-SO much!!! **

**virtual cookies for everyone!**

**till next time! this is snails-on-the-french-riviera signing off! ciao!!**


	3. Bothering Blaise Other Fun Activities

**AN: Hello my lovely readers! Chap # is now officially POSTED!! ^__^ !! it's kinda on the short side, but then, all of them probably will be. ;) Also, I changed some of the details of Ch.2, moving the class to Divination, not Transfiguration. it makes more sense that way. hope no one's confused by that! i would also like to thank those people who reviewed or put this on Story alert. I FEEL SO LOVED!!! XD!! and now, please enjoy the newest Chappy of-**

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**Ch 3 - Bothering Blaise and Other Fun Activities.**

**0o0o0o0o0**

_Two days after that fateful Divination class..._

_0_

_0_

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Draco threw himself sulkily onto a couch in the Slytherin common room, shoved his face into the emerald plushy pillows, and screamed.

_Stupid bloody Potter! I swear to god, if I ever have to do that again, I'll- I'll kill myself! No, even better, I'll kill Potty! And Granger. And the Weasel, just for good measure. Stupid git. At least I was trying to be productive, but nooo, he had to be a complete useless prick about it. God damn effing complainer; I'm going to have to do the whole bloody project myself! Seriously, I think that Avada Kedavra fried his brains out; stupid- effing- goddamned- obnoxious-- whiny little pretty boy!!_

Draco stopped dead in the middle of his mental rant, and blinked his steel grey eyes.

_Did I just call Potter, of all people, a pretty boy? I mean, for one thing, he's not even pretty! He's like- ugh, just thinking about his face makes me feel all dead inside. Although, he does kinda act gay. Well, not really, but it could be a clever act! You never know… only wait. This is Potter we're talking about here. Clever is not his thing. He is short, though. I think some of the first years are taller than him, for Merlin's sake! And he's all like- femme…ish-_

An image of Potter wearing a dress and make-up sprang unbidden to Draco's mind. Along with fishnet stockings, there to make everything exponentially worse.

_NO! Bad mind, bad! We DID NOT WANT TO SEE THAT!!_

_Ugh! I think I just threw up a little in my mouth! Girl version is even worse than him normally! I guess we're only lucky his filthy mud-blood mother and blood-traitor father were put down before they could make any more monstrosities like Potter. And-_

_Never mind. Im gonna forget all about that horrible traumatizing image, and that awful planning session I just had with my freakin' arch-nemesis (Hehe, arch nemesis. Funny word…) and go do homework or something. Yeah…_

Draco carefully climbed off the couch and smoothed his face-print out of the cushions. He was just about to go find Blaise Zabini and force him to do homework with him( Crabbe and Goyle were in detention with Flitwick. Blowing up the entire classroom tends to get you that.), when the boy magically appeared out of nowhere. Not real magic, obviously, but it sure seemed that way.

_Dang! Perfect timing, as always. I begin to believe that boy's got super powers or something; maybe he's psychic. Hmmmm… only one way to find out!_

"Hey, Zabini! You psychic or something?"

Zabini turned to stare dispassionately at Draco. "Not that I know of. What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco carefully considered his options. As he saw it, they were:

A) Mock pout and whine, "I'm hurt, Blaise. Can't I talk to you without wanting something?" –start fake crying- _Fun, but humiliating, and somehow I don't think he'd appreciate it._

B)Answer honestly. _Boring, but effective, I suppose._

C)Smirk and make a cryptic statement. _Always a good choice, keeps him on his toes. _Or his personal favourite,

D) -make Sexy-Face™ and say in Sexy-Voice™ "Your body. Rhahr!" _Freaking hilarious, but sadly no. I'd get bitch slapped._

Draco smirked, and chose option C.

"What makes you think I want anything, Zabini?"

The cold boy gazed at him levelly, and stated, "Because you're you, Malfoy. You do nothing except for your own benefit."

"Touché. Are you sure we're speaking about me here?"

"Perhaps, Malfoy, we are speaking about the both of us."

Draco nearly smiled. He was nigh unflappable, that one. He'd have to try a little harder.

"Touché." He said again, and watched in concealed amazement as the Italian twitched slightly. It was a very small slip, and well hidden; had Draco not been watching for it, he would have missed it completely.

_Wow. It must be a record. I usually don't get a reaction out of him for at least fifteen minutes. _

"You already said that," Blaise murmured.

Draco sensed a possible weakness.

_Could it be? Blaise Zabini, Mr. Apathy Personified, actually has a pet peeve? Lets see exactly how far we can take this._

"Touché."

"Malfoy, have you no creativity? That's three times now you've said that."

Smirk. "Touché."

Draco watched Blaise's eye spasm slightly.

"Malfoy. Not funny."

"Touché."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Touché."

"Stop saying that over and over, okay!"

_Is that an exclamation point I detect? Progress indeed._

"Touché."

"God, you're so annoying!"

"…Touché."

"JUST SHUT THE HELL UP WITH THE TOUCHE'S, DAMMIT!!"

Draco laughed out loud. Blaise's normally impassive expression was shot to pieces, replaced by Psychotic Pissed-Off Face.

Mission accomplished. And now…

"Merlin, Zabini, no need to get so worked up about it. I was only teasing!"

The darker boy scowled- well…darkly, and stalked off to the dormitories. As he watched him go, Draco couldn't help but deliver one last parting shot.

"Touché!"

"DAMMIT!!!"

_Nice. That's the biggest reaction I've ever gotten out of him, by far. Childish, but effective. I'll have to remember that._

Blaise sprinted up the remainder of the stairs, shoving rudely past Theodore Nott coming the other way. The small Slytherin stumbled, scowled, and flipped the bird toward Blaise's retreating back. He then continued calmly on down the stairs and glided over to Draco.

"So, Malfoy," he said in a conversational tone, "up your usual tricks, I see. What did you do to Blaise that has him speaking in exclamation points?"

Draco smirked. He loved that kid. He was just so…chill. Nott was possibly the only person his age who he'd never been able to piss off to the point of incoherency, seeing as he'd just crossed Zabini off that list. Mildly irritated him, yes, raging maniac, no.

He considered Nott almost an equal, although you'd never get him to admit it. They had become, if not friends, because having friends in Slytherin was simply not done( Crabbe and Goyle were an exception. They were simply too stupid to betray you ), then at least solid allies.

Until Draco finally managed to make Nott snap, anyways; after that it would probably be business as usual for the Slytherins, backstabbing and betrayal.

But that would be years from now, at the rate Project 'Piss-Off the Pacifist' was going.

Draco briefly retold his conversation -if you could call it that- with Zabini, and they both had a good laugh over it. Then a thought hit Draco.

"So, Theodore, how are you-"

"No. Whatever it is, I'm not helping you."

The other snake knew him too well, it seemed.

"Last time I agreed to go along with one of your little schemes, I ended up in the Hospital Wing for a month. In a bed next to that damn mud-blood, Granger. She talked non-stop about her stupid family and her stupid schoolwork, and then the Gryffindor Golden Boy and the rest of his _posse_ showed up and _didn't leave_ for god knows how long, and on top of all of that, some imbecile must have brought in a cat, Merlin only knows why, but I'm horribly allergic to them and started swelling up like crazy. I had to be under a Bubble Head charm for the whole time. Why on earth they didn't just get rid of the cat, I have no idea. Blinking idiots, if you ask me. The only good thing about that stay was that the mud-blood kept the bed curtains drawn most of the time, so I didn't have to look at her ugly mug that often. But still. Not an experience I'd like to repeat. So count me out."

Draco raised an eyebrow after Nott's little rant.

No exclamation points, but he'd definitely heard some italics in there. it was a double whammy! First Blaise, now Nott, in one night! He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his system, buoying him up after that atrocious meeting with Potter.

_Not bad_, Draco told himself,_ at this rate Nott'll be raving mad by say-_

_Lets see, I've know him my whole life, so 14 years to reach Phase II, so…. hmmm, 14 cubed, divide by 16, multiply the whole thing by 15 and take the square root. So, somewhere around…70, 80 years. Not too shabby._

He looked at Nott, who had fallen silent some time ago and was now gazing at him in a calculating manner.

"You done now?" Draco said dryly.

Nott considered. "No. You never got me a Christmas present either." He paused again. "Okay, now I'm done."

"Nothing else you'd like to get off your chest? Secret crushes, fatal weaknesses…you know. Stuff."

"Nope, I'm fine. So what _did_ you want?"

Draco scowled slightly. Why on earth did people always assume he wanted something?

_Oh yeah…. Because I usually do._

He cut to the chase.

"Alright Nott; have it your way. You're going to help me with something."

Nott started to object, but Draco rode roughshod over his protests.

"Before you ask, yes it involves Potter, and no, I won't accept 'my horoscope told me it was a bad day for possibly perilous projects' as an excuse not to help me. Any other questions?"

Nott opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with a reply that would get him out of it. Failing that, he settled for, "Possibly perilous projects?"

Draco smiled grimly. "Indeed. Maybe even life threatening."

"Oh. Well that's comforting. But- really, Draco. Alliteration?"

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**i 3 you all! thank you, thankyou, you're a wonderful audience. blows virtual kisses**

**so there it is, Chapter 3. **

**i'm sorry Draco and everyone are so OOC, but in my defense- um.... meh. i got nothing. I dont think Draco said anything out loud that was _too_ unlike him. just in his head. and his head is a mysterious land of which we know not, so it could actually work that way. maybe. possibly. quite probably. (yeah, probably _not!_)**

**yeah. ^__^; i have recently discovered this way of making smiley faces! its so fun! and entertaining! and- and- and delicious!**

**well...maybe not delicious. but the Virtual Junk-Food i will give you if you review will be! ReviewReviewReview!! and the Winner will get an actual, virtual Cookie! chocolate chip, of course. =)**

**Hugs n Kisses! -snails-on-the-french-riviera **


	4. Ch 4: Possibly Perilous Projects

**AN: umm... i really have nothing to say here.**

**oh, wait! Nevermind, i do! i would like to thank all the lovely reviewers who have reviewed so far! and today's virtual cookie award goes to: Maurader's Queen! thank you soo much for your kind review! eeep, it made me so happy! so i'll try to draw your cookie here:**

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** / ^ ^ ^ \**

** \ ^ ^ /......... yipes! that is one odd looking cookie!**

**and now, without further ado:**

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**Ch 4: A Possibly Perilous Project?**

"Are you shitting me, Malfoy? This is your 'possibly perilous project'?"

"Hey! Books are dangerous, you know! We could get paper cuts and bleed to death!"

Nott gave Malfoy an incredulous look as the boy tossed aside yet another library book and grabbed another.

"You know, sometimes I just don't understand you. It's like half the time you're the perfect Slytherin Prince, all ice and sharp edges, and then bam! You're someone totally different. Someone whose sanity I'm seriously beginning to doubt."

Draco nodded knowingly. "Ahh, yes. I have a theory about that. You see, there's this person inside my head, fondly know as SugarHigh!Draco, and sometimes he gets a little restless, beats Slytherin!Draco into submission with a rusty pipe, and comes out to wreak havoc."

He giggled. Somewhere, deep in the depths of his psyche, he was aware that he should be totally mortified right now.

Honestly, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, was giggling and spouting off total nonsense.

But he would worry about that later, after the post-conflict adrenaline had worn off, and he was feeling his normal sly and subtle self again.

Although, now that he thought about it, the whole SugarHigh!Draco thing did explain a lot…

Nott was giving him an odd stare. "Riiight. Are you sure Potter didn't hex you at that meeting of yours?"

"Yup! I'm one hundred percent, super-duper, A-okay!!"

Nott nodded sceptically, his respect for his year-mate rapidly falling, but let it drop.

Draco made a mental note to beat him up later, as well as black mail him into never revealing anything that was happening.

That would be Slytherin!Draco, of course.

SugarHigh!Draco merely continued giggling and smacked Nott playfully on the head, saying, "Come on slowpoke, more working less talking! Don't you want me to pass my Divination class?"

Nott looked down at the dusty tome he was examining. "Ah.. not really. Not if it involves having to go through millions of ancient, outdated divination books for information on the Inner Eye. Remind me why you chose this again?"

Draco rolled his eyes slightly.

"Because, honestly, with Potter as your partner, you don't want to do anything too risky. And that means nothing involving spells of any kind. Therefore, logically, you get the Inner Eye. Pure research, you see?"

Nott tipped his head thoughtfully. "True. That kid is kind of a danger magnet, isn't he?"

Draco practically choked at this understatement. "Kind of? I think that's the understatement of the year, Nott, congratulations. If I didn't know better, I'd say someone (besides my beautiful self of course) had it out for Potter."

Nott once again gave Draco a blank stare.

"What?"

He was making Draco uncomfortable.

"Draco," Nott said in a pitying tone, "There _is_ someone after Pottter."

"…. Oh yeah… my bad!"

"You're an idiot."

"Oh yeah! Well- you look funny!"

"Draco. That was sub-par, even factoring in your whole SugarHigh theory. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"I know. But I _will_ make you pay for that comment. Only later, when Slytherin!Draco has recovered from his concussion and is back on his feet. Give it few hours- or days, you never can tell with concussions- and I'll be normal again."

Nott was officially weird-ed out right now. First Malfoy was acting all depressed after his planning session with his rival -and don't try to deny it, Draco, we all saw you!- and now, only twenty minutes later, he was acting like a first year Hufflepuff.

A _girl_ Hufflepuff.

He considered asking his housemate what drugs he was on, but thought better of it. Odd behavior or no, Draco was still Draco; damn sneaky and vindictive when he wanted to be. It didn't pay to get on Draco's bad side.

"So," he asked, tossing aside yet another useless book and flipping open another, "what exactly happened during that meeting? You never did say."

"Ugh. I don't even want to talk about it!"

_FlashBack_

_Potter had been supposed to meet him in the library at half past four, but he didn't actually arrive until four fourty-five._

"_Finally!" Draco had exclaimed as Potter slid into a seat opposite him, as far away as he could possibly be and still be able to talk to him. "I was beginning to think you'd chickened out, Potter."_

_His rival had glared tiredly at him, rubbing his forehead absently. "Whatever, Malfoy; lets just get this over with so I can leave."_

_Draco quirked an eyebrow at him. "Still looking like crap, I see."_

_The glare intensified, and Draco smirked, holding his hands up in a "whoah there" gesture. "No no, Potter, I like it on you. I think it suits, since you are crap." _

_Potter had growled, but made no reply other than pulling out a sheet of parchment and a quill. "So when can we meet?" he'd asked, causing Draco to sneer yet again. _

"_You have no idea how wrong that sounds, coming from you."_

_Ugh, the idea of Potter on a date- with anybody- was sickening. Draco shuddered. Potter had given him a confused look, clearly having no idea what he was talking about, before shaking his head and dropping it onto the table. "Just- shut up Malfoy, and start planning. I'm no good at scheduling" _

"_Aw, and here I was thinking you had no flaws."_

_No reaction. "Potter." Nothing. "Potter! Dammit boy, wake up."_

_The brunette's head had snapped up. "Shut up."_

"_Pay attention then, Potty."_

"_Stupid Pureblood."_

"_Pureblood's not an insult, you know."_

"_It should be, the way you all act."_

_Draco sneered angrily at his enemy. How dare he insult not only his family, but the entire Pureblood society? "I'll have you know that many people would kill to be allowed to associate with Malfoys."_

"_Yeah, well I'd kill to be allowed __not __to."_

_Malfoy was slightly miffed at the other boy's apparent apathy. Not once during the entire exchange had he raised his voice. He had insulted Draco, but it seemed mechanical, more like an automatic reaction than anything else. Deciding that Potter wasn't worth the energy it would take to push him into a proper fight, Malfoy got back to business. _

_Insults could wait._

"_When does Gryffindor have Quidditch practices?" he'd asked. Potter had looked at him in confusion, and then disgust._

"_Why, are you going to spy on us, or something?"_

_Draco sneered. "Yeah right Potter, use your brain for once. If you even have one, that is. I need to know which evenings we can't meet on."_

_The other boy dropped his head into his hands, propped up on the table. "Oh. Sorry. I think we have it Tuesdays, Wednesday and Fridays, seven to ten, and Sunday mornings at five."_

_Draco raised a pale eyebrow. "Five a.m.? I understand that your team is awful and you definitely need the practice time, but five a.m on a Sunday? Isn't that going a bit overboard?"_

"_Hmm. Maybe. But somehow we always manage to whip your butt, don't we?" _

_Draco snickered at Potter's word choice. "Merlin Potter, whip our butt? What are you, five? Can't even bring yourself to say ass?" _

_The other glared stonily. "Ass. Are you happy now?" He paused, and added, "and our team doesn't suck," as an afterthought._

_Draco sneered. "Tch. How could I be happy when I'm spending time with __you__?"_

_Potter had closed his eyes, and dropped his head back onto the table. Not looking at Draco, he muttered, "Whatever Malfoy. I don't care. Do you need anything else, or can I leave?"_

"_Yes, actually, I need to know any and every other possible scheduling conflict you might have, and we need to draw up a times table, as well as figure out what precisely we want to do with this assignment."_

"_Well personally, I'd like to tell it to go die in a hole."_

_The entire meeting had gone down hill from there._

_EndFlashBack_

Nott smirked in un-sympathy. "Sounds like a drag," he noted, not sounding unhappy abut it at all. In fact, he sounded rather pleased. In a sadistic kind of way.

Draco scowled at him. "Yes. Yes it does. And now comes the part where you comfort me in my distress."

Nott snorted, and threw a book across the table to Draco. "In your dreams, Malfoy. One, I'm a Slytherin. I don't do sympathy. And two, I happen to know that the only reason your upset is that you couldn't get a proper rise out of Potter the whole hour. So suck it up."

"Oh, stuff it, Nott. You're no help at all."

Nott smirked slyly. "No help at all? Au contraire, my impatient friend, I think I am very helpful."

"How so?"

Nott pointed to the book he'd tossed at Draco. "That, Malfoy, is the only book on Seeing ever written by a true Seer."

Draco stared down at the book in his hands. Decidedly slimmer than the others, it looked otherwise identical to the scores of other books they'd just gone through. Crumbling, leather-bound and atrociously thick. There wasn't even a title on the front, just the initials, A.T.S. He flipped open the cover, and nearly laughed out loud. On the first page, in a wavering script, was written, _A Treatise on the Ways of the Sight, by A. T. Sear._

Smothering his chuckles with an effort, Draco inquired,"Nott, you do know that Seer is spelled S-e-e-r, not S-e-a-r, right? This book is written by someone named A. T. Sear, not a true Seer."

Nott looked astounded and pissed at the same time. "What? Damnit, I thought we'd finally found something. Look in it anyway, Malfoy, just in case."

Draco shook his head, but reluctantly paged through the book.

"Blahblahblah….oh look, an illustration! Huh, I wonder what it's supposed to be? Blahblahblah…. Nope, still nothing…..no…no…nope...oh!"

He stared at the passage, his eyes drinking in the words.

"_Many diverse manifestations of foresight have been recorded throughout time, but only a few have been deemed True Sight."_

Draco blinked. "Nott," he said slowly, "I think this might actually be helpful. Here, listen to this:

_The first and most common manifestation of True sight is the Prophet. Such a Seer will deliver prophecies, often cryptic in nature, concerning great world events. This type of the Sight is not always reliable, as many prophesies are self-fulfilling; they come about almost entirely through the subjects efforts to keep the foretold events from happening. Ironically, if the ones with whom the prophesy is concerned never learn of it, the prophesy will most likely never be fulfilled. Prophets are by far the most numerous of Sighted witches and wizards, out numbering both Omnicients and Visionaries almost a three to one throughout the entire history of the Sight._

_The second manifestation of the Sight is an Omnicient. An Onmicient Seer has an awareness of their own future not seen in Prophets, and can often predict nearby events minutes before they occur. However, it takes a very strong Omnicient to See more than a few minutes ahead, the average being only a few seconds. The strongest, not to mention strangest, ever reported case of an Omnicient Seer was an old Welsh woman in 1529AD, who claimed to be able to see days into the future, and is reported as saying she used her knowledge of future happenings to 'make a killin' a them horse-races, sonny!' Her claims were later found to be entirely false; her winning streak was the result of illegal usage of the Felix Felicis potion and a good eye for horseflesh. _

_Unlike Prophets, who are almost always entirely unaware of the contents of their prophesies, or even that they have spoken a prophesy, an Onmicient has full knowledge of their power. However, an Omnicient can see only those events affecting him or herself personally, and as such is of little use to anyone other than him or herself. Historically, Omnicients have made nearly invincible fighters and battle-field tacticians, as they know the movements of the enemy in advance. _

_No one has ever discovered exactly how Omnicients know the future, as it is a closely guarded secret among them. A theory was put forward in 1132 by Sir Leon of Fellace, stating that they can sense the flow of time, and instinctively interpret the minute alterations in its course that determine future events. However, his claims are unsubstantiated, and as his next theory stated that a species of butterflies in the rainforest were the actual cause of hurricanes and other natural disasters, most respectable theorists have written him off as a bad job."_

Draco paused. "When the hell was this written? It sound's more recent than the others, and there's no atrocious misspellings, either." He flipped back to the title page, carefully keeping a finger marking his spot, and peered at the fine print in the bottom of the page.

"Copyright 1598 by A.T. Sear. Huh. Odd."

He flipped back, and continued his narration.

" _The third and final manifestation of True Sight is what is know as a Visionary. Little is known about Visionaries, and what is known has been discovered mostly through guess-work. Visionary Sight is the rarest of the three manifestations, occurring usually only once or twice in several generations. A Visionary Seer may See either small snippets of future events, or alternatively, a single detailed image. As far as can be told, Visionary Sight is completely accurate, but as no context or timeframe is ever given for the Vision, it is of little or no practical value, even less so than that of an Omnicient. A Visionary seems be able to See the future as clearly as they see the present, and indeed many have had difficulty distinguishing between reality and their Sight. Many of the stronger Seers have quickly been driven mad by the weight and number of their visions, ending up in insane asylums by their late teens or twenties. Until quite recently, Visionary Sight was not considered True Sight, and many Visionary's were scorned as either madmen or addicts. Only in 1580AD did the Seer's Convention of that year officially include Visionaries in the Book of the Sight._

_The method a Visionary uses to see into the future is even more mysterious than that of the Omnicients. No theory put forward has ever been able to explain Visionary Sight, causing much strife between Magical Theorists and Visionary Seers, who have so far refused to speak on the topic. The Visionaries themselves claim to have no knowledge of the mechanics of the process, but as every single one of them, separated by generations, has replied to inquiries in the exact same way, using the exact same words, their claims are met with universal skepticism. Visionary Seer's are the only Seers to possess what is commonly known as the 'Inner Eye', although many Prophets and Omnicients, as well as Charlatan Seers, have made false acclamations of it."_

Draco stopped reading, and looked up in slight disbelief. "None of this sounds even vaguely familiar. Are you sure this book isn't some sort of fraud?"

Nott looked just as confused. "I have no idea," he replied. "I'm a pureblood too, and no one's ever mentioned any of this to me before. But it sounds authentic to me. And anyway, I doubt there would be a fraudulent book in the Hogwarts Library, Malfoy."

Draco was still unsure, but let it go. "Whatever. I'm bored of this learning crap. Let's go to dinner."

"Sounds good to me."

Draco stood up from his seat, and went to slip _A Treatise on the Ways of the Sight _into his book-bag. As he struggled to fit it in with all his other books, his eyes fell on a small, plain volume, buried near the bottom.

The journal.

_I had forgotten about that entirely. I guess bloody Potter and his stupidity pushed it out of my head._

He made a mental note to look at it more carefully later, when Nott wasn't around to see, and closed the bag again.

"Come on," he muttered, and led the way down to the Great Hall.

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AN: yay! the plot is kinda sorta staring to appear in very small, invisible to the naked eye ways! oh joy, oh rapture!!

so yeah. it might be a while before my next update, i'm trying to straighten out some plot issues i'm having (as in, i keep going off on tangents, and my major plot idea so far has barely even appeared and is being overpowered by something random. which i did not mean to happen.) so it could be a week or so, more if i have issues, maybe less if i'm inspired.

i'm sorry if y'all get impatient, but otherwise i'll end up say twenty chapters in, and i'll realize that my plot has disappeared entirely. its a definite possibility.

also, im going an vacay for a week, so probs no work on this done then either.

luv you all, and as always, REVIWS ARE SUPER DUPER ENJOYABLE AWESOME TO RECIEVE!!!

hugs n kisses to all my readers! -snails-on-the-french-riviera!


	5. Ch's 56: Salad and A Crazed Quest!

**Hello my pretties, le author is baaack! both of these chap's are really short, tho... so i'm posting them together!! special bonus just for you! Now, read on my faithful freinds! READ!!!**

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**Ch. 5: Salad and a Short Interlude, aka, The Pointless Chapter!**

The two Slytherins sauntered into the Great Hall minutes before dinner started. Most of the other tables were already starting to fill up with students from other houses, but the Slytherin Table was devoid of occupants- the Snake House was notorious for being precisely punctual or fashionably late. Either one was fine.

Draco and Nott sat down in their usual places, about halfway down the left side of the table. This had been Draco's spot ever since first year, when he'd chosen it for it's unobstructed view of Potter and his Gryffindork sidekicks.

Even then, Draco had suffered from an obsession with the boy. Right off the bat he had known that Potter was trouble. He wasn't exactly sure what about him had made Draco want to watch the boy, but something about him wasn't quite right. He had started off simply wanting to observe Potter, and had decided the best way would be to befriend him. But that blood-traitor Weasley had already been telling the other boy all sorts of lies and slander about his family, and the whole of Slytherin House. He'd harshly rejected his offer of friendship on the train, embarrassing him in front of not only Crabbe and Goyle, but also the Weasel. Any thoughts of friendship had ended there.

Almost any other offense he could have forgiven, but insulting himself and his family, when Potter didn't even know them- that, he could never forgive.

Not ever.

Ever since then, the scruffy little midget had been a constant thorn in his side.

Draco glared in the Gryffindor's direction, fully intending to disintegrate him with his laser vision, or die trying.

---Only said annoying Gryffindor wasn't there.---

Draco darted his glance all over Gryffindor table, spotting both Weasley and the Mudblood, but no Boy-who-lived. He turned to Nott and opened his mouth. "Is it just me, or is there a definite absence of Potter over there?"

Nott glanced up from his plate, and then over towards the Gryffindors. His eyes danced over the table in a quick but thorough scan, before turning back to Draco. "It's not just you, I'm not seeing him either."

"Shoot! He wasn't here yesterday, either. Or the day before, now that I think of it."

He pulled a small leather notebook out of his bag and started frantically going through it. This was his 'Potter-Log', where he carefully kept track of any and all sightings of that rare creature known as Harry Potter. There were hardly any entries in it under the heading marked, 'Dining Hall'.

Why no, he's not a stalker, what _are_ you talking about?

He's just- um… no, you're right, he is a stalker.

_So, Potter's too good to eat in the Great Hall with the common people now, is he? I suppose he goes and cries to the house-elves until they feed him separately. Not a bad idea, really; the food up here is crap anyways…_

Nott gave him a look. "Why does it matter if the Gryffindor Golden Boy is late? Swear to god, Draco, your obsession with him has progressed long past the creepy point and far into unhealthy stalker-dom. Especially since you started keeping that log. That's definitely crossing the line."

Draco sighed.

_What does he know about it? I suppose that yes, from an objective standpoint, it might seem that I am stalking, but- damnit, I need to know what he's up to at all times! Need!! __Need,__ I tell you! If he's my arch-enemy, then stalking is perfectly fine! After all, the Dark Lord is doing it, too! It's peer pressure! Aaaaargh! Ahem…_

_Anyway, Potter must be scheming something! There's no other explanation for his abnormal behavior!_

He conveniently forgot all about his own abnormal behavior…

_I'll find out what he's doing, I'll catch him at it, I'll drag him to Severus and… oooh, I like this plan. This is a __good__ plan. We must put this plan into action at once!_

He sprang up, punching one fist into the air. "As much as it pains me to do so, I simply must be going! Ta-ta, everyone, dinner was lovely-"

"Draco,"

_Uh-oh. Nott's giving me that look again. Don't panic. My cover is perfect._

"Draco, the food hasn't even arrived yet. You're going after Potter, aren't you?"

_Shit! How did he know? My delivery was flawless! Okay, now what do I say? Ah! He'll never see through this one! _

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nott. Food, not arrived? How silly! I think I'll just go down to the kitchens and try and speed things up a bit, shall I?"

He quickly made his escape, laughing manically and silently cursing Nott for calling him out. Behind him, the infuriating boy called out, "Bye Malfoy! Have fun looking for Potter!"

_Grrr…_

___________________________________________

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* * *

________________________________________________________Special Extra Short Bonus Chapter Just for YOUUUUUU!!!!!___________________________

**Ch. 5: Curses, Foiled Again!**

**Aka: Draco the Dauntless and his Fabled Quest for the Lost Golden Boy of Gryffindor**

**O**

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Draco started his search with high hopes, but his enthusiasm soon faded.

_Salazar's breath, I'd forgotten how huge this castle is. But- no matter! I have destiny on my side! Onward in my quest!_

He took off, vaguely wishing he had a hobby-horse he could ride, just for dramatic effect.

He ran through the hallways, peering into classrooms and around corners, trying not to give in to the inexplicable the need to lace both hands to together, leaving both forefingers and thumbs out in an 'L' shape and creep around corners and press himself against wall, all while humming a rather catchy tune. It went like this: duh na, DUH NA! duh nana! (cough-mission-impossible-theme-song-cough).

Pondering this mysterious compulsion, Draco sped on through the Hogwarts corridors, shocking several of the portraits with his un-decorous behavior. (Sir Cadogan looked on approvingly. "Why, this man must be on a quest! Fair fortune, my fellow, do not lose heart!")

_The noble knight's encouraging words ringing in his heart, our hero continued his search with renewed courage, dashing upstairs and down in search of his lost enemy._

_However, try though he might, the object of his obsession was not to be found. He searched high and low, and long into the night, but Harry Potter was nowhere to be found. Eventually, his strength waning, Draco the Dauntless gave up his search, but vowed to return the next night, and the next, and on into eternity, until he found that which he sought._

Draco skidded to a halt. _Hold on a second, when precisely did this become an epic tale? I am so confused…_

He rolled his eyes, smacked himself on the forehead.

"Sometimes I think that there's some teenaged psycho out there controlling my thoughts, or something…" he muttered to himself.

**[Crap! code 7, code 7! Our presence has been detected! **_**Obliviate! **_**]**

"Wait… What was I just saying?"

He shrugged, put the odd memory lapse aside, and decided to take the voice in his head's advice.

"Time to turn in, Draco my friend. It's nearly midnight! Who knew? We shall continue our quest anon! … wait… what's anon?"

* * *

So, my darling readers, Snails is now back! -APPLAUSE!!!!- she had muchos funsies in florRIDA!!! unfortunatly, almost no work was done. -CRIES!!!- waaaaaah, i'm so soory! so chapters will stil be slow and pointless. but maybe amusing, yes? please please please, reviews for the starving authoress? eeeep!

Hugs n Kisses all!! S-o-t-f-r! (my initials, doncha know)


	6. Ch 7: Draco's Discovery

**AN: ummmm… yeah, the authoress died there for a while… whispers 'm sowwy…**

**BUT! A new chapter has been written! And I think most of my plot issues have been sorted out, so possibly this story is back on track! And SCHOOL IS OUT IN SEVEN DAYS!! WHOOT! So more time will be had to be spent on this! (why yes, this sentence makes sense grammatically…)Thank god… exams take over my life! Editing has been undertaken, not much, but I had to copy and past this whole thing from the website onto Word, because the docs on Document manager had expired, and I needed to change them, and they were really different from the original docs on my computer… so yeah…**

**Really, not much has been changed, except for the deletion of the prologue. It became extraneous and distracting. **

**Now- read on, dear viewers! To the FIC!**

Ch. 6: Draco's Discovery

Aka, Dizzying Designs of Delightful-ness!

Draco's days fell into a pattern. He woke up early, working on his Quidditch skills; the School-wide competition may be off for the year due to the Tri-wizard Tournament, but that was no reason let himself get out of practice, especially with the rival Gryffindor team working their asses off training. Mornings and afternoons were devoted to classes, of course, after which came homework and social time. As unofficial Slytherin head of his year, Draco could not afford to let his enemies, or even his allies think him distracted in any way, lest they try to usurp his position. Usurping was the second official past-time of the Slytherin house.

Evenings he spent wandering the castle in search of Potter, whose continued absence from meals was highly suspicious. He never found him, of course, but he did stumble across some other, very interesting things. In fact, he was currently hiding in one such discovery. A strange room in the fifth floor corridor, next to the tapestry of [wherever on earth the room of req. is!]. It was an odd little room, only appearing when he absolutely needed it, and its appearance changed to suit his needs. Currently, it was acting as an impregnable fortress, keeping him from the clutches of the dreaded Slytherin Pug- aka, Pansy Parkinson. The stupid bint was chasing after him again, demanding he give her a foot massage.

_Ugh. I can't take that right now. I hate having to put up with her none-too-subtle advances all the time. I mean, yes, technically we're betrothed, and I don't really mind kissing and petting. She's a damn good pet-er, actually. But that doesn't mean I like her, or want to be anywhere near her damn feet. That would imply some sort of actual relation ship, and honestly, there's scads of highly willing, far more attractive girls out there, just waiting for me to do them…_

Why no, Draco's not a man-whore. Why do you ask?

In truth, he'd never really gone all the way with a girl. Well, not technically. Blow-jobs didn't count.

No really, they're not real sex, I mean, everyone knows that…

For a while, Draco simply lounged on one of the grey leather couches the room had handily provided, enjoying the peace and quiet after a very long day.

But after ten or so minutes, he began to shift uncomfortably on the slippery cushions.

_While lovely to look at and soft to touch, fun to sit on these pillows are not._

He squirmed, trying to find a good position. No good. As tired as he was, he simply couldn't sit still. There was too much on his mind.

Like Potter, for one.

_What's different about him this year? Something's not right- well, more not-right than usual, anyway. He wouldn't let me push him into a fight, like he usually does. Not during class, not in that wretched meeting last week- he didn't even insult me on the Hogwarts Express. He barely even looked at me, and Merlin knows I was trying hard enough to get a rise out of him. Of course, I was mostly insulting Weasley, but he's Gryffindor, damnit, he's supposed to defend his friends! _

_Maybe this is some new plot he's thought up. He could have figured out that the only reason I tease him is to piss him off. It's not really any fun if he doesn't react._

_Maybe that's why there are so few entries in the Potter-Log. He's actively avoiding me so as to not get into fights. He's depriving me of my cheap entertainment, just to spite me! How selfish of him…_

_I'll admit it's clever, to a point. I'll bet the Mudblood helped think of it. It seems just like her: sneaky, underhanded, and low- wait, no. That's me…_

_So it was ME who helped Potter think of this!? Oh, Draco, how could you do this to me?_

_Hold up. That was stupid, right there. I would never help a Gryffindork, how could I even suspect such behavior of myself?_

_Because sneaky, underhanded, and low are the trademark tactics of a Malfoy. Who else would do such a thing?_

_But- but I-_

_Ha, so I was right, wasn't I? My logic is undeniable! _

_No, your logic is non-existent! Your conclusion makes no sense, mine is much better. You want un-deniable logic? Here you go:_

_Fact: I am Draco Malfoy._

_Fact: I did not help Potter in any way_

_Fact: Sneaky, underhanded, and low are inexcusable tactics to be used only by a Malfoy._

_Fact: Someone in Potter's circle has come up with a sneaky, underhanded and low plan to deprive me of my entertainment. _

_Fact: As much as I hate to admit it, Granger is the only one in Potter's little menagerie capable of human level thought._

_Therefore: Granger came up with the plan._

_Therefore: Granger used Sneaky, Underhanded, and Low tactics._

_Conclusion: Granger is a Malfoy._

_There, you see? Undeniable._

_But- it makes no sense!_

_Well, neither does yours! And anyway, this whole conversation makes no sense! Both of us- there isn't even more than one person here, I'm arguing with myself!_

The second voice in Draco's head fell silent, defeated at last by his logic.

"Ha! Take that!" he said out loud, before standing abruptly up and assuming a pompous pose.

"And now, my dear friends-" he looked around at the empty room- "I'm afraid I must take my leave of this madness."

He stalked out, the room supplying a handy passageway directly to the Slytherin Common Room. Briefly, he wondered how in Salazar's name it even worked, and if it was really a good idea to have a room that could do this, but put that thought aside. It was easier not to even ponder that.

He strolled into the Common Room, waving off several inquiries about his sudden appearance, and wandered off down the sloping passageway towards his rooms.

Because of the nature of the Slytherins, Hogwarts Headmasters and Mistresses had long ago decided that having them share rooms with each other like the other houses was unwise; it tended to make for far more disagreements between the Snakes, and far less students. The Slytherin house sport _was_ backstabbing and betrayal after all.

Emphasis on the backstabbing.

Draco reached his door, a heavy oaken affair that brooked no nonsense from anyone. Magical doors can be very vindictive when they want to be, as Draco knew from experience. He was lucky to have escaped with his life after that incident with the glitter-glue and nail file.

Don't ask.

He bowed elegantly to the door, and asked the door-spell to let him in.

"I would request entrance, Esteemed Door-Keeper, and sanctuary in the chambers you guard."

The door-spell was an ancient and intricate spell, put in place at the same time the private rooms were added. The Headmasters of old had also thought it wise to remind the pompous Slytherins of their manners every so often, and so the Door-spell was very easily offended, refusing to let in anyone whom it thought rude.

It also had issues with anyone not a Pureblood, but we won't go into that.

Fortunately for Draco, the Door could find no offence in his request, and let him in without a fuss.

He walked in, shut the door, and sighed in content, flopping boneless-ly onto the plushy cushions of his green and silver bed.

_Thank god for small comforts. Like silk and velvet and swan's down pillows._

Now-

Draco pulled the journal from the Library from where he'd stashed it under his mattress. He'd been wanting to examine it more closely all week, ever since that day in the library with Nott, but classes, homework, and the like had occupied his time. Sunday, today, was the first free day he'd had since arriving at school a week ago.

Momentarily distracted by the thought of the past week, Draco thought back to his classes. Most had been normal, but Defense against the Dark Arts had been- interesting, to say the least.

_FlashBack_

_Professor Mad-eye Moody glared at the assembled Slytherins. "Right, listen up you slimy bastards, I want you to listen closely: the majority of ye're going ta end up no good, don' try an' deny it. I know who yer parents are, an' the apple don't fall far from the tree, is all I'm sayin'. But hear this: if any of ye try to pull any shit in my class, I'll have ye arrested before ye can say diddly squat. Is that clear!" Moody was looking straight at Draco with both of his eyes as he said this._

_Draco scowled. What a wacko! He knew his family was Dark, he never said they weren't, but his parents were good people, and he didn't like the insinuation that they had taught him dangerous Dark Magic already. They __had__ been planning to start on that kind of thing this summer, actually, but something had come up in Lucius' legitimate affairs, and it had had to be put off till next summer._

_But just because it was true, didn't mean he had to like his Professors insinuating it._

_Moody took his eyes off Draco at last, and resumed pacing. "Now that that's out o' the way, I'll be teachin' ye ways of resisting Dark Spells in this class. I'll imagine ye all know the unforgivables, and I wouldn't put it past some of yer parents to have taught ye them, but Dumbledore's insistin' I go over 'em. So. Who can give me the name of one?"_

_Every hand in the class went up, including Draco's. He knew two of them, at least, although Lucius and Narcissa always seemed oddly reluctant to talk about them in front of him. He wasn't really sure why; he knew Crabbe and Goyle's fathers were already teaching them to their sons. _

_He pouted slightly at that thought. Who'd have thought Crabbe and Goyle would ever know more than him in any area? If he wasn't careful, he'd lose the top spot in his year…_

_Moody pointed at Millicent Bulstrode, a girl built like a wrestler with an unfortunate tendency to lisp and stutter when she was nervous, as she was now._

"_um- t-the Cruthiatuth Curthe, Profeththor."_

_Moody raised one deformed, scarred eyebrow. "Cruthiatuth? Merlin girl, speak properly! Ye don't want te be lispin' durin' a battle, now do ye? Never can tell what'll go wrong…"_

_Bulstode nodded frantically. It was clear she never wanted to be in a battle at all._

"_Yes, the Cruciatus curse, the torture curse-" _

_Draco sat up straight, jaw hitting the floor. "Say what!"_

_Finally, after all these years, he had learned the function of the Cruciatus Curse! He did a little victory dance in his seat- you can imagine how that might have looked- and stopped abruptly when he felt the entire class, including Moody's, astonished eyes on him._

_He looked around. "What? What'd I do?"_

_Moody twisted his face into a fierce scowl, trying to hide the amusement Draco saw in his eyes. "What precisely do ye think yer doin', boy? Some kind of dance?"_

_Draco smirked at him. He could tell the Professor was trying to decide whether to be insanely angry and suspicious, or burst out laughing at his antics. _

_Why don't we give him a push in the right direction there? I'll bet if we—_

_Making a snap decision, Draco flapped a hand at his Professor._

"_I've just had a revelation of sorts, but no matter. Pray, continue, dear teacher; forgiveth me mine uncouth behavior, 'twas not meant to offend._

_He looked hopefully at Moody, praying he'd judged the man right._

_The mad spluttered, pushed over the edge into anger by Draco's blitheness. "Detention, Malfoy, and thirty points from Slytherin. Be glad I'm not cursing you."_

_Draco smirked, not caring about the points or the detention. _

_Spot on prediction, Draco m'boy. Spot on…_

_EndFlashBack_

Draco smiled now, remembering that scene.

_Fun time, fun times…. But now back to business!_

He shook himself out of his reminiscent stupor and looked back at the Sketchbook—it really was more of a sketchbook than a journal. Opening at the first page, he found it to be blank, save for these words: _I have bared my soul onto these pages, poured out my essence and laid bare all my sins, in the hopes that I will be washed clean. Contained herein lies a complete and accurate record of all things I have seen, and Seen. I pray that it will not fall into the wrong hands. _There was no was confused. "What the heck- this makes it sound like…" Actually, he had no idea what it made it sound like. Something odd, anyway; definitely not your average journal. Or maybe the writer/artist was simply Emo. That could be it. He flipped to the next page.

_My very first memory is of my aunt screaming. She opened the door and she looked down at me with shocked eyes, and she screamed so loud as to wake the dead. That was my first sin._

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow. What was this, some sort of confession diary? How was making your aunt scream a sin?

He looked at the sketch below the beautifully written script. A bony, horse-faced woman was portrayed in dark lines of ink, seen as if lying on the ground at her feet. The woman's mouth was open in a silent scream, and Draco could practically hear the shrill tones of her imagined voice ringing in his ears. His eyes wandered over the picture, taking in everything. The detail shown was wondrous; every line of the woman's face, every mole and hair and chipped tooth was sketched in, but somehow the artist had managed not to make it look over cluttered. The image went soft at the edges, blurring into a fuzzy outline of a doorway, and standing in it, a large, hulking figure. It was like someone had taken a snapshot of this moment in time, let it fade, and then transferred it onto the page.

"Damn," Draco whispered softly, "this kid's got talent."

He flipped the page, eagerly reading the small dark text in the top corner.

_My second memory is a bit later. I made one of my cousin's toys float across the room, and __He__ beat me for it. That was the first time I realized I was a freak. _

_I was two years old._

Draco blinked, gaped at the words on the page. Two years… wha! He reread the phrase, but the words hadn't changed.

_What kind of a person beats a two year old? This is too odd…_

He shook off the lingering feeling of shock, and snorted skeptically. This had to be some kind of joke. But the water-colour of a hulking, obese man just below the caption was too detailed to be anything but a real person.

_That doesn't mean the artist didn't make it up. _

Something clicked in his head. This had to be some sort of artistic storytelling thingamabob. Like a- what did those muggles call them?

Graphic novels! One of those, yes. It had to be.

"ha ha, foolish mortal!" he muttered at the book, "thought you had me fooled there, didn't you? You thought wrong!! No man can deceive me, for I am the great and powerful OZ!!"

he paused a moment. "wait….what? Isn't that…from a book…?"

He trailed off, then shrugged, by now used to these inexplicable references he felt compelled to make.

Still muttering to himself- "great… invinsible… puppy- power…bwahahaha…"- Draco continued his book-scanning, this time not bothering to read the captions. It looked like a lame story anyway. All about some kid being beat up by these other kids, and by his uncle, and pretty much everyone else the artist could think of, and generally holding a twenty four-seven pity party. _Bo-_ring.

But at least the pictures were good. Disturbing, but good.

At last, sometime late in the night, Draco slipped into sleep, still clinging tightly to the book.

AN: um. This took an unexpected turn. We have entered the ocean of Angst, kiddoes. Turn back, turn baaack! JK. I tried to keep it as upbeat as possible, but not really sure how well I succeeded. Whatevskies.

If you can't see where this is going by now, I think you need your eyes checked. It's not exactly subtle. Meh. I have a headache. I have exams on Monday, and I'm sick. Not in the mood for subtle. Or for happy upbeat cheery crap. **Holy shnikes, I sound like I'm being serious! It's a sign of the Apocalypse! **

Oh yeah, about those plot issues? Yeah, they just resurfaced. So, maybe it's not smooth sailing just yet. Soon, my pretties, soon I will figure this out, and then… we will have PLOT! Did you notice! It was kind of there, this chapter! Just a little! Squee!

Ok, now that this AN has gone on for WAY too long… please reviews for the starving authouress? Pretty please?


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